Window Shopping

A Poem by Brody

I was window shopping for a life down streets I couldn’t afford,
I painted pictures in my mind that were never meant to manifest,
I was a prisoner watching the world pass by through steel bars.
Not longing for escape, only hoping for a breath of air not bound by cement.

Like the warmth of the sun on skin in summer evenings,
So close, yet thousands of miles out of reach.

I was a window shopper.
A lonely one,
But a content one.

The dreams I dreamt never unfolded before me,
And there is a quiet peace in that.

They stayed perfect.
No arguments,
No tears.

Because to a window shopper,
The valuables always live behind the glass.
Untouched,
Undisturbed,
Exactly as they were dreamed.